Pain
by JuliaBC
Summary: Reid has a stomach ache...or does he?
1. Chapter One

Pain

* * *

Reid had a stomach ache. He didn't know what he brought it on, but what he did know was that they'd just pulled up at the crime scene and he wasn't sure it was physically possible for him to get out. The pain was like knives and it was unrelenting. No position seemed to relieve it and he'd had it since getting onto the airplane. Aboard, though, it somehow wasn't as noticeable. Now…it was all he could think about.

Morgan had closed his door and was about to talk away when he realized that Reid was still in the backseat.

"Hey, old man, aren't you coming?" He asked, opening the back door and sticking his head in. While Reid didn't mind Morgan's concern…he did mind it.

"During the ride my stomach decided to murder me and hide the corpse," he informed the other man, slouching. "Seriously, though. I don't think I can move without screaming in pain."

"Dude, why? Did you eat something?"

"It's not that kind of stomach ache," Reid grumbled. "That's the frustrating thing. Can I just stay in the car?"

"Why didn't you say something before we left? Hotch would have let you stay behind."

"It didn't start until after we left," Reid sighed. "Please? The car? You can tell me everything you learn and I can draw conclusions from that."

"I—sure. But I'd prefer you telling Hotch, just to make sure."

"Make sure of what?" Reid grumbled, but Morgan had closed the door and walked away. Reid curled up into a ball and thanked God that the windows were tinted and no one could see inside.

* * *

The phone conversation was awkward. Reid's misery had failed to fully present itself to Hotch when the man on the other end could only hear Reid and not see him, and so it had taken a few minutes to explain what exactly was happening. Even then, he remained confused.

"I'm confused. You can't get out of the car because of a stomach ache?"

"Yes, Hotch. And no, I'm not pregnant or doing drugs." Reid's annoyance had spiked with Hotch's last question. To Reid, it seemed like Hotch was being purposely obtuse.

"Sorry, I just still don't quite comprehend what the problem is."

"I am in pain." Reid said, rather flatly, and he could almost hear what Hotch was thinking:

You've never let that stop you before.

"Okay," Hotch acquiesced finally. "Okay. But when you get to the station, I'll need to talk to you."

_Yeah, you and everyone else._ What happens when Garcia hears?

* * *

A rap on the window woke him. Amazingly, he'd dozed while waiting for Morgan to return.

"Hey, man. Can you move to front seat so we can talk about the case better?"

Reid unfolded himself with some difficulty; he was too tall to do it comfortably, his joints were stiff from the awkward position and his stomach still hurt. "Sure, sure," he forced out as he got out of the car to get in the front seat.

Morgan started the car and backed out of his space, craning his neck to look behind. "So, Reid, do you know what started this pain?"

"No." Reid stated, his voice flatter than a pancake. "And I came up here to talk about the case, not about my stomach."

Morgan glanced at him sideways, eyes narrowed. "There's more to it than this."

"There usually is, the problem being…" Reid sighed. "I don't know what."

* * *

"Antacids will not help," Reid repeated. "I am not having digestive problems."

"Sure?" JJ rattled the bottle. "They always help me."

"Good for you," Reid mumbled. "And get those away from me."

"He's feeling a little sensitive," Morgan explained as he walked by, clapping JJ on the shoulder and Reid looked up, narrowing his eyes.

"When I am feeling better, you will regret that remark," he said as a warning, but Morgan only waggled his eyebrows.

"I look forward to that, old man," he flipped back and Reid tossed his notebook at him, giving Morgan even more reasons to leave the room cackling.

JJ picked up the book. "Is this really just from the stomach ache?"

"Stomach pain alters anyone's mood," Reid told her. "It isn't like being shot, where you have to be strong. When you have a stomach or tooth ache, you just whine, and it's perfectly fine."

JJ chuckled. "That's an…interesting philosophy."

"Thanks. I just made it up but I shall live by it to the end of my days," he finished, looking up at her with a smile on his face.

She ruffled his hair on her way out. "Please, Reid, do. I'm happy to listen to your…stomach grumblings any time."

Reid pursed his lips at the choice of words but had no choice but to let it slide as Hotch entered, Prentiss on his heels.

"You think he's guilty, right?" Prentiss was saying and Hotch shook his head.

"I have my doubts. Sebastian seems to be a more likely choice." He leveled Reid with a steady stare. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible," Reid chirped.

"And loving it, it seems," Prentiss finished. "I want to go back to the library, see Mrs. Davis again. I think she knew more than she let on and I think with what Daniel just said, I can catch her bluff."

She picked up her coat and walked out, leaving Hotch to raise an eyebrow at Reid unhindered.

"So, a stomach ache?"

"It's like knives piercing me," Reid explained. "But I, oddly enough, don't feel as miserable as I did earlier, despite the fact that the pain has not gone away or abated in the least."

"You must still be somewhat miserable," Hotch began, "because you haven't told me an obscure fact about stomach aches."

"Yeah, I must still be," Reid said, and slouched again.

A funny look came over Hotch's face. "How long have you had it?"

"Since we got on the plane."

An even funnier look. Hotch sat down. "Reid, why do I suspect you aren't telling the truth? I will profile you." To prove it, he scrutinized Reid from the top of his head down to his toes. "It's a lie, definitely. But why on earth fake a stomach ache? What did you gain from that?"

Reid started spouting unintelligible facts about stomach aches, unintelligible because he was talking so quickly.

"Slow down," Hotch commanded, but Reid went on at full speed, until Hotch clamped a hand over his mouth. "Okay, I get it. Just—okay, you have a stomach ache." He stood up and raked a hand through his hair, while Reid looked up at him reproachfully.

"That was rude, Hotch. I wasn't lying."

"Just keep believing that," Hotch muttered as he left. Reid looked after him with narrowed eyes but an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, unrelated to the knives he had started keeping there.

"Damn it," he found slipping through his lips.

* * *

A/N: I wrote this with a stomach ache. Actually, over the last few days, I've had a frightening variety of stomach aches. It isn't fun. But I tried to make that only the catalyst and then give the question of whether Reid was telling the truth or whether it was psychosomatic.

And I do think that it is true about stomach aches versus something more serious. It's easier to complain about little things but you feel stupid if you complain about something big. And, to a certain extent, a stomach ache like that can be more debilitating than a gun shot wound. With the latter, you have to bear the pain.

I'll update this tomorrow or in the next few days. This was more 'out there' than my others so far and I need to carefully consider what happens next.

Also, I'm rewatching the seventh season and it really tickled me when Morgan called Reid old man on his birthday. I think I'll be sticking with that moniker.


	2. Chapter Two

Pain

* * *

Reid went to the board and unpinned the notes left at the crime scenes. There were three, one from each crime scene and after a minute of reading…

"I think there's a third," he announced, rather abruptly, before realizing that the room was empty.

A cop stuck his head in the door. "Need anything?"

"What? No, uh, thanks."

He picked up his phone. "Hey, Garcia, where is everyone?"

"Prentiss is at the library with Rossi and JJ and Morgan are talking to Daniel's parents again. I think Hotch is just at the station."

"Thanks." Reid hung up again and pursed his lips. Then he cleared his throat and went in search of Hotch.

* * *

"I think there's a third," he announced, when Hotch left the interrogation room. He looked surprised, to see Reid and at his announcement.

"The wording?" Hotch asked immediately and took the notes Reid proffered.

"See, here and here," Reid leaned in to point out the words. "This was two months ago, but we just established that Sebastian only participated in second two murders."

"Two heads are better than one, huh?" Detective Seville asked and Reid and Hotch straightened.

"Do you have any idea who the third is?" Hotch asked, straightening his jacket. Reid's glance went to Hotch's tie, staring without seeing it and then:

"Have you spoken with Daniel's brother yet?"

"We tried, but he wasn't picking up and I think that he was in Alaska at the time of the second and third murders."

"That doesn't mean that he didn't participate in the first. I'm calling Garcia."

* * *

Having gained the address, Hotch and Reid drove there without delay. Vests on, guns out, they went to the door and rang the doorbell. No answer. A shared look and Hotch kicked the door down.

"FBI!" Hotch bellowed. "Jason Donovan! Are you here?"

Reid ducked into the living room. "Clear!"

Upstairs and ground floor were checked.

Reid went outside and Hotch went to the basement.

Reid was checking in the doghouse, up a big maple tree and even under the porch when his heart froze.

There was a gunshot.

He raced down as fast as he could to find Hotch and someone who was presumably Jason in hand to hand combat. From the way they were fighting, there was no possibility of a shot.

Reid felt perplexed. For reasons he couldn't pinpoint, Hotch was fighting much more viciously than was normal in a fight with a suspect, and if he wasn't thrashing around so much, he could have been able to gain a shot. But from his vantage point, Hotch wasn't even trying to restrain him, he was simply fighting.

Reid stepped forward, rather cautiously, as far as he dared to go before he'd be pulled into the fight.

"Hotch," he inquired, and for one moment Hotch looked up from where he was being pinned by Jason. In that instant, when Hotch was still, Reid brought his gun down, hard, on Jason's head.

"Shit," Jason muttered as he collapsed.

Reid shoved him off and reached his hand down to pull Hotch up. For a moment, he didn't think Hotch would take it but then the man reached his hand up and permitted Reid to pull him up.

"You need medical attention," Reid observed dryly.

"I noticed."

* * *

"What even happened? Reid, why didn't you try reasoning with him?" Some time later, when all the team had arrived and Hotch was being attended to in the ambulance, Morgan was inquiring as to what had happened.

Reid explained the fight. "It's hard to reason with someone when your unit chief is trying to bash their head in. What could I do but jump into the fray? I couldn't get a shot so I took the lesser risk of just giving him a concussion and whacked Jason over the head. Thankfully, Jason's head stayed Jason's and didn't become Hotch's from the time of aiming to hitting."

"Trying to bash their head in?" Rossi asked, shooting an amused glance and Hotch, who had bruises on his face, arms, torso and neck. "Do you know why he was taking it so personally?"

"No idea," Reid chirped.

"Well, old man, you did good," Morgan assured him. "Any idea of where to look to find evidence of Jason's involvement?"

"The third bureau drawer on the…left," Reid answered, after a pause.

"Let's take his word for it," Prentiss drawled, amused at the quick answer, as she and Morgan walked to the house.

Reid walked over to Hotch. "Feeling okay?"

"Yes," Hotch hissed as the paramedic finished up. He got up, clutching an ice pack to his forehead.

"Sorry I didn't get there quicker." Reid murmured. "Who made the shot?"

"I did, when he jumped me," Hotch began. "And don't apologize. We should have been going down there together, as we would have if I wasn't being immature. I'm sorry too, Reid. I shouldn't have said you lied."

Reid tipped his head, considering. "Truth is overrated."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hotch asked, sounding mildly alarmed.

"It wasn't a lie. I had a stomach ache but it was gone by the time you got around to questioning me."

"I should have taken it seriously anyway," Hotch continued. "I was just confused."

"I was just confusing," Reid tossed back. "My mind was on other things today and didn't have the patience to deal with you or my stomach."

"I must admit that I was also thinking about other things. I've been having…issues elsewhere. But I must say, being in the same category with your stomach is a first," Hotch's eyes were dancing. "Well, next time I'll take you seriously and you won't be confusing."

"Next time? Are you planning on poisoning me?"

"I just might," he muttered and put down the ice pack. "Let's go look for evidence. I've been having a funny feeling since this case began. I don't think that these three murders were all there were."

"Meghan Vrees's death was too confident," Reid agreed. "Even if there were two killers."

Hotch nodded. "You think he kept trophies?"

"I'd count on it. Added to that, I think I'll ask Garcia to check on unsolved murders like these in Alaska."

"Good idea," Hotch affirmed. "See you in the house, then."

* * *

Once back at Quantico, Reid came into Hotch's office carrying two mugs of tea.

"I don't drink tea," Hotch began.

"Humor me," Reid interrupted and Hotch narrowed his eyes at Reid's pushiness.

"Can we do something after work today?" Reid asked. "I'm bored and literally everyone else is busy. Since Jack is with Jessica—"

"Sorry, I have a date." Hotch murmured distractedly.

Reid blinked, more than a few times. "A what?"

"With Beth. I met her in the park. Come on, after that conversation on the airplane…" Hotch raised an eyebrow at Reid's loss of memory.

"Oh! Oh…" Reid's voice got much softer. "She's your rebound, hmm?"

Hotch looked taken aback at his choice of words. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"A rebound is—"

"I know what it is. What makes you assume that Beth means so little?"

"I'd be surprised if she didn't. Most first relationships after long ones end are rebound type, usually because the person in question who is getting over one isn't actually ready for something serious again."

"It's been two years."

"I know."

"Surely that's long enough?" Hotch asked, his voice hard.

"Surely it is." Reid's voice had gone back to normal. "Good luck."

* * *

When Hotch left, half an hour later, Reid was sitting at his desk, doing some last minute paperwork. He saw Hotch; saw the way his hair was ruffled, the undeniable 'spring' in his boss's step and knew that Hotch was happy.

But...

...for some reason that he refused to identify...

...his stomach ache was back.

* * *

A/N: I started this to be a comedic type of story, it got more serious, back to comedy and then ended on a much more serious note. Because of those reasons, this story may not read very smoothly.

I apologize if this doesn't live up to what you were expecting.

Regardless, what did you think?


End file.
